


Wet

by Artemis1000



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fest, Fluff, M/M, Post-War, Snow, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: Bodhi likes living with Cassian on Fest, really, he does, but he doesn't think he'll ever get used to howwetFestan winter is.





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Week 4 of [Sniperpilot Winter](sniperpilotwinter.tumblr.com), the theme being Snow.
> 
> The world building for Fest is based heavily on Legends!Fest's description in _Cracken's Rebel Field Guide_ while Jedha's description was influenced by _The Art of Rogue One_.

Bodhi shook himself once they had crossed the threshold, shaking off what felt like a whole blizzard’s worth of snow before he started to rid himself off his scarf and gloves and hat and then finally freed himself of the first of two jackets he wore.

“Cassian, don’t take this the wrong way, but why is Fest so _wet_?!”

Cassian paused in yanking off his own heavy gloves. After a moment he got moving again, liberating himself of his outer layers of clothing. He looked frustratingly not damp or frozen or concerned at all.

“It’s just snow.”

Bodhi rubbed his hands and breathed warm air on them; the gloves hadn’t done much for him anymore once they had grown damp. In hindsight, using his hands to wipe the snow off their speeder had been a mistake; it had clung to his gloves in an icy crust and then slowly melted into the fabric. “Yes, but…”

“You like snow,” Cassian told him. He looked like he was halfway to working himself into a scowl.

“No.” He reached for Cassian, pressing his cold hands against his chest and making his boyfriend grumble in annoyance. He grinned, Cassian deserved it for being a grouch. “I like the cold. Snow, on the other hand… Snow is just _wrong_.”

Cassian, in turn, shot him a deeply offended look. “There’s nothing wrong with snow! It’s supposed to snow on Fest! That’s why it’s classified an ice world!”

Slushy popsicle world would have been a more apt description in Bodhi’s book, but he figured that was just him being uncharitable because he could barely even feel his toes anymore. The half-melted sludge that piled up on Fest’s city streets had gotten his shoes and socks damp, too.

“I’m going to lose my toes,” Bodhi muttered to himself as he went to make them some hot tea, “that’s what’s wrong with your snow.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fest, he mused as he waited for the water to heat up, it was just that deep down he’d hoped for Fest to resemble Jedha more. He’d known it was irrational, but it had been impossible not to hope it would feel at least a little bit like coming home.

He’d come to a planet whose sprawling megacities bore the scars of decades of rebellion, the uprising against one army smoothly transitioning into defiance against the next and each war carving new wounds. These wounds of occupation – or rather, of the price paid for resisting it –  were familiar, but everything else had struck Bodhi as completely foreign.

He’d never understood what Cassian meant with _light summer snowfall_ until his short stint deployed to Hoth, but Fest was something altogether different. It was the sheer number of people who lived among ice and snow, briskly unconcerned by the fact that the very world they lived on was intent to freeze all life and conserve it in blocks of ice.

“I know Jedha’s cold was different,” Cassian said as he stepped into the kitchen. He didn’t look annoyed anymore, just a little bit wistful. “Fest takes getting used to.”

“Jedha’s a cold desert,” Bodhi said, nodding slightly, “it’s arid.”

Cassian moved closer, not quite touching him, but decidedly inside Bodhi’s personal space bubble. It felt like a caress. “Maybe we should find a planet that’s some kind of middle ground.”

Bodhi let his gaze wander through their kitchen. They, like most Rebel Alliance slash New Republic personnel sent to help Fest’s transition from Imperial to Republic world, were temporarily housed in the old Imperial bases. They’d been lucky enough that their rank got them an officer’s apartment instead of bunking in the barracks.

It wasn’t much, and it had all the charm of… well, of Imperial living, monochrome and pill lights and everything. Which meant absolutely no charm whatsoever, and since the Fest rebels' favorite tactic had been to sabotage the power on Imperial bases and freeze the Stormtroopers in their own barracks, they still only had reliable electricity about half the time. Needless to say, it made K-2SO absolutely insufferable.

His eyes found the holopic of Rogue One on the shelf above the stove, Jyn smiling and Baze soundlessly bickering with Chirrut, and Cassian’s hand shyly finding his own.

From there, Bodhi’s gaze wandered to the cans of spices lined up to the left and right of the holopic, Jedhan and Festan flavors all mixed up, while leftovers from the rich soup Cassian had cooked yesterday sat on the stove ready to be warmed up for dinner.

Its scent mingled now with the aroma of the tea Bodhi had made.

“No.” Bodhi grasped Cassian’s hand in an inverted mirror of their tiny blue holopic selves. He smiled, then smiled wider at the surprise in Cassian’s eyes. Somehow, even after all this time together, Cassian kept being surprised by being shown affection. It was one of his most charming traits in Bodhi’s book. “This is your home and it’s going to be mine, too.”

Outside, the snowfall picked up again and the wind tore at their windows.

Bodhi stifled a frustrated sigh and reminded himself that if you loved your Festan, you loved his snow planet, too.

“But you’re going to help me shop for new winter gear.”

Cassian’s arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him close against his chest. “I will,” Cassian breathed, nuzzling the back of his neck, “and I’ll do you one better.” His hands slipped under Bodhi’s shirt. They were cold, but Bodhi sure wasn’t going to complain. “I’ll help you warm up.”


End file.
